


Stress Relief

by Carnivore



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Doctor/Patient, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Shyness, Sticky, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnivore/pseuds/Carnivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last appointment on his shift, Rung is tired, and Red Alert is attractive. Even more so, because he's shy, inexperienced and <i>oh so sensitive.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

It was a most difficult shift for Rung. Time dragged on, as if it was a whole lunar cycle. First there was Fortress Maximus, who continued to be, true to his name, an impenetrable wall of stubbornness. And then there was Whirl, who had broken all his previous records of being utterly obnoxious. Rung was feeling tired and unusually unfocused, and there was yet another patient waiting at his door.

It was Red Alert, and he was in a state more miserable than usual. The other day he found a _radio-roach_ in his ration (but not before he ate half of it) and thought someone was trying to _bug_ him. While the “bugged” ration was probably a work of pranksters, the otherwise harmless critters had been giving off static that kept the audio-sensitive mech from going offline the whole night before they dissolved in his fuel tank. While Red was unwinding his recent theories about who were his most treacherous enemies on this ship and what conspiracy could benefit from bugging his insides (the restless night had given him a lot of time to think it over in detail and spin a conspiracy tale that could be made into a bestselling detective story) Rung let him speak his mind, preparing an explanation why a couple of insectoids couldn’t possibly transmit Red’s thoughts to his enemies, but the therapist’s attention wandered from Red’s talking to the patient himself. This red-and-white hunk of a mech was reclining on the patients’ slab, huge shoulder pads against the wall, the rocket behind his right shoulder turned upright to make the reclining more comfortable. Rung’s sidelong look lingered on that rocket for an improperly long time, for it was indeed giving him improper thoughts. Like who could be Red Alert’s mysterious arch-enemy for whom he was keeping such a huge missile and what a big _bang_ it would create if it was launched. Or did this part of Red’s anatomy contain no charge at all and served as a rather suggestive ornament? If so, it was already fulfilling its purpose: Rung’s look was slowly travelling from the projectile across the impossibly wide chestplate to the attractively colored pelvic panels. He caught himself wondering whether this autobot’s _equipment_ was as thick as everything about him was and whether it would fit into him at all, and how incredibly fulfilling it would feel if it did. There was only one way to know, and it seemed to be an easy way, for Rung had noticed some time ago that his patient had a crush on him and was actually waiting for him to confess it. Which, the psychiatrist thought retrospectively, was not a thing someone should expect from the ever-anxious ‘bot, so he needed to take the matter into his own professional hands.

Red was just complaining how someone was always following him in the corridors (hint: it was the echo of his own steps) when Rung put a hand on his shoulder and asked:

\- Have you tried anything to calm yourself before recharging? Like that meditation technique I taught you?

\- Erm, I tried it but… I can’t focus my hearing on just the hum of my own vents when I also hear Swerve’s vents in the room (and he uses them to make that funny whistling sound just to distract me), and there’s also that ticking sound that comes from the guy next door (he still has a mechanical clock built into his head, can you believe that!). And on top of all these things I hear the engines, which is usually all right unless I’m trying to focus! - the mech shook his head in despair.

\- Do you sometimes try to release your tension in a more… _sensual_ way? - Rung’s hand, still pressed against the layered shoulder pad, moved down the plates to rest on the unshielded part of the arm.

\- You mean, like… t-touching myself? - the mech was quickly heating up either from uneasiness or Rung’s touch.

\- Perhaps, - Rung’s voice was encouraging and just a tiny bit suggestive. - Or… letting others touch you? - his hand slowly circled the large mech’s elbow pivot.

\- I can’t, ah… trust them, - Red Alert was looking at Rung’s hand as if he was hypnotized. - Sometimes I hear… others, m-making these… _these sounds_ , and I really want to… uhh.. - he mumbled, hiding his flustered face in his palm.

Rung moved from his chair to sit on the slab at Red Alert’s side. Reaching out to the big white hand, he made a light gesture as if to move it away from the autobot’s optics.

\- You can tell me everything, Red, - he said tenderly, as the big mech stared at him from behind the hand. - I’m not going to shame you, or hurt you in any way. Do you trust me?

The big white hand finally yielded, Rung taking it with both of his small hands. The huge, bulky, flustered ‘bot gave him a smallest of nods.

Rung nodded back to encourage him speak further.

\- I’m, a-hmm, afraid that someone’d come in and see me… doing _that_ … - Red’s face was a mess of embarrasment and budding arousal.

\- No one will see us _here_ , - the psychiatrist suggested, pressing Red Alert’s hand to his own chest as he leaned closer. - Everything that happens here is _confidential._ And you are in need of some _stress relief_.

\- They will hear…

\- They won’t if we’re quiet enough, - Rung said slyly, as if they were starting a little conspiracy of their own. Putting his hands around Red’s stout neck while letting the massive arms hesitantly encircle his body, Rung whispered right into one of his audios: - _No one’s as sensitive as you, my Red…_

There was an unmistakable sound of a panel clicking open.

Red Alert’s three-colored spike was just a little longer than average, but definitely thicker than most. The mech twitched and moved an arm as if to cover it from view, but Rung gently stopped it, holding it against his waist and making a tender _“Shhh…”_ sound against the sensitive audio.

\- Don’t worry, Red, you’re doing just fine, - he continued to whisper, one hand stroking the thick wires of his neck while the other pushed Red’s arm a little lower, encouraging the patient to explore the more intimate parts of his therapist’s body. - You do enjoy the sound of my voice, don’t you, Red? - a low, husky moan implied that the answer was positive. - You’ve wanted to touch me for so long, but you didn’t dare to - go on, touch my thighs, my panels, don’t be shy… - Red Alert’s ventilation exhales felt hot on Rung’s neck as the large hands complied, moving clumsily but eagerly to enclose the small aft and slender thighs. - Oh, but you _are_ shy, my Red, and I find it so endearing. You’re so big and powerful and yet so delightfully, _deliciously_ bashful, - Rung had never expected his eloquence would make someone moan in pleasure, but it was happening right there. - I need you to do something for me… You’ll need to work me with your fingers before your _gorgeously_ thick spike could fit into me. Do you feel like it?..

\- R-rung-hh… - came a deep, noisy gasp as the overheated mech was struggling with his vocals, - I’d, nghh… I’d do _ahh!..nything_ for you!

\- Then listen carefully and do as I say… First, pull me closer, - after a little bit of clanking the slender mech was stretched on top of Red’s wide body, holding onto his neck. - Now I’m opening my panels, - the sound was definitely heard by his partner, as he instantly felt a couple of fingertips brush uncertainly against the entrance of his valve. - Go on, slide them along, get them coated with lubricant, - there was certainly enough of it, small purplish streaks bright against the white of his inner thighs. - Let’s begin with _one_. Insert it slowly… yees, like that… move it, nothing to worry about in there… Now make it _two_. Good, feels so good… You need to know, Red, how much I love working with you; you’re always listening, always so docile… ah, be _gentle_ down here, - he kept his voice soft and encouraging even though Red wasn’t very deft with his hands and sometimes it hurt. His thoughts were getting blurry, but he needed to keep talking. Or did he?.. When a fingertip brushed against a particularly sensitive node and Rung let out a small moan, his partner responded to the sound with a slight tremble. Rung was so grateful for this reaction: it meant he could let his restraint go and just react to the stimulation, as a third finger entered him uninvited but very welcome; gasping and moaning into Red’s audio sensor while making him almost overload… and that’s what actually happened: Rung felt the body underneath him shudder unexpectedly, the fingers inside him coming to a halt before a warm shot of transfluid landed on his aft.

\- S-sorry!.. - came a raspy, anxious voice. The fingers withdrew from Rung’s valve, leaving him empty and a little aching. - I did it _wrong_ …

\- What are you talking about? - the therapist smiled tenderly at Red’s flustered face. - Your tension’s been building up for so long it was bound to happen. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re not quite finished yet…- Rung glanced back at the spike, which stood as tall and pressurized as before, now coated with a fair amount of fluids that would be helpful for the act. - Now that you’ve done some pretty good handwork, I don’t have to guide you… _I’m all yours._

Rung almost squirmed in anticipation as the body underneath him adjusted its position with some grinding and clanking against the metal berth. Finally he felt the thick and slick head of the spike touch his entrance, parting the valve lips with as much care as his clumsy and passionate partner could muster. It was a little painful but Rung was all right with it as long as the spike was stretching him so nicely. It was only halfway in when Red began his little movements, each one pushing the spike a little further - he seemed to be quite inexperienced but Rung found that as charming as the way Red was shutting his optics tight in strain and pleasure and a bit of embarrassment that he couldn’t do it just right, all the emotion written on his face for Rung to admire. Many would say Red wasn’t particularly handsome, but it was compensated for by his colorful array of emotions - and that wasn’t just the usual suspicion, mistrust and nervousness everyone saw in Red. His therapist knew him so much better than everyone else did; he was the only one who’d ever seen the paranoiac’s soft and vulnerable side, and that was delightul in itself: Red Alert’s trust was the greatest professional compliment for Rung, and now it had become a personal achievement as well.

The psychiatrist was encouraging his partner with half-contained moans, feasting his eyes upon his subtle emotional shifts, until he couldn’t take all the pleasure at once and dimmed his optics as well, concentrating on tactile senses. He was stretched to his limits, the large mech’s spike moving in him slowly and softly, but it was more than enough. The powerful arms held him tight and secure, as if Red was afraid to drop him, or paranoid that someone would take him away. Rung suspected that his aft and sides might show some dents later, but Ratchet could be trusted to fix that: there would be no questions, only a rare knowing smirk: it wasn’t exactly news that doctors sometimes had a _favourite_ patient. Rung could just hope that he wouldn’t be too sore to walk to the medibay, as one particularly deep thrust made him yelp in a most endearing way, and that sound awakened even more passion in Red, or maybe simply shut down his “shy” circuits. The big mech buried his face in Rung’s neck cables, a hot wide glossa tasting every inch of the psychiatrist within its reach, while the huge spike pressed all the nodes inside him, his whole body radiating so much heat that in normal circumstances Rung would be worried that his own paint would melt and stain his partner, claiming him for everyone to see. But at that moment he _reveled_ in the thought that Red was _his_ , and his alone - this huge, heavy machine whose trust he had won with his patience and gentleness; a powerful but timid beast he had tamed and could now ride. With that pride in his spark and a gasping moan on his lips he overloaded, clinging to Red for dear life, finding his hungry mouth as if to bury the sounds of bliss inside of him - the sounds that Red devoured like it was the sweetest treat in the universe. The wet, messy, passionate kiss continued well into Red’s overload, dwindling into small licks and nibbles as the exhausted mechs just lay there ventilating, an occasional soft shudder going through their bodies as their systems rebooted, cleansing of all the little faults and errors they had accumulated.

Compared to that, the problem of cleansing the psychiatrist’s office of all the mess was practically insignificant.


End file.
